


Coming Home

by Mary_Jane221B



Series: I Would Give You All of Me [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mary_Jane221B/pseuds/Mary_Jane221B
Summary: Twelvetide: day 1. A return.





	1. A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Twelvetide: day 1. A return.

John looked down at the pages of familiar writing covering Mycroft’s desk. 

“He’s really alive?”   
  
Mycroft looked up, meeting John’s eyes and lowering the phone from his mouth. “Yes. At least, he was on the 18th.”   
  
John sniffed angrily and bit out, “Where?”

The question was directed at Mycroft but answered by the blonde agent working beside Anthea. “We’ve got his location down to two possibilities, Doctor Watson. Mr Holmes, we need permission to move attributes from Iran...”   
  
“Move whatever you want, Hanna,” Mycroft snapped. “Just get him out of there.” The blonde nodded, pulling a roller chair up behind her and moving to a computer.    
  
“We will have agents at both locations within the hour, sir,” Anthea said, handing Mycroft coordinates and a list of names.   
  
“Make it sooner,” John growled. Anthea ignored him.    
  
“Secure permission from whomever you need to ensure our agents can use whatever force they deem necessary. Sherlock Holmes is of high value to the crown and to London.”   
  
“Yes, sir.” Anthea nodded before turning to John. “We will get him, John.”   
  
Agents jostled past him as they rushed to build a command unit, dispersing orders in no less than four languages to as many stations while Anthea scribbled details for the next steps.   
  
“They’re good, John,” Greg said from the corner, where he’d been since Mycroft had called John in half an hour ago.    
  
“I need to do something,” John said quietly.   
  
“Nothing you can do at the moment,” Greg answered. “Nothing I can do either. This is Mycroft’s area, John. Let him do it. Let him get Sherlock.”   
  
“What do I do then? Just sit there and do nothing, just wait?” John whispered, knowing Greg was right. There was nothing he could do. He and Greg wouldn’t be able to get to Sherlock fast enough. It was in someone else’s hands...a stranger's hands...the love of his life was probably dying in some hideous hovel and there was nothing he could do. Sherlock was likely being tortured at this very moment and John was powerless.    
  
“I know where Mycroft keeps the good whiskey,” Greg offered.    
  
“I don’t want whiskey, Greg.”   
  
“No, I know, you want Sherlock. But we’re not going to have news for an hour at least, so come have a measure with me and let the smart Bond-type people get on with it. Alright?”   
  
John was silent, his mind thousands of miles away, images of Sherlock swimming amongst images of Mina from earlier in the day, memories of Sherlock running through the midnight darkness of London, hopes for a bright future with Mina laughing in the park, playing with other children, hugging John, calling him Daddy, “Am I dreaming, Greg?” He felt the first threads of hysteria bubbling in his stomach.    
  
Greg didn’t say anything, he placed a hand on John’s shoulder and squeezed gently.   
  
“If I am, if I am dreaming, I don’t think I want to wake up. I don’t want to not have this.” John said,   
  


“Not have what?” Greg asked.   
  
“Hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my beta BenBatched for keeping me both coherent and on point.


	2. A Note

From The Desk of Mycroft Holmes

Greg

 

By the time you read this it will be morning and we will have extracted Sherlock from his location. One way or another I will be bringing my brother home to London. Forgive me for not waking you or John. I needed to go alone.

 

All my love

 

Mycroft

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
